It is a fountain of perpetual gladness —
It is a garden of perpetual bloom.
But to thy nature pride and power belong,
And death-defying courage; what to thee,
With thy great life, thy spirit high and strong,
May my one love in all its fullness be?
An inward joy, sharp e’en to pain, yet dear
As thy soul’s life—a warmth, a light serene,
A low, deep, voice which none save thou may hear —
A living presence, constant, though unseen.